


Kick

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 15:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Till/pregnant reader where she's worrying she won't be a good mother and Till comforts her?'Hope this is good.





	Kick

“You look uncomfortable.”

You nod, and shift a little on the couch. You have a small human trapped in the confines of your body, which doesn’t sound comfortable anyway, and now you are living it – you rest a hand on your stomach, and there is no response.

“Hey, buddy, could you get off my bladder?” you whisper – nothing.

“You are speaking to him?” Till asks in amusement from his seat at the desk, and there – a kick. He only kicks for his daddy, you think, and the thought makes you miserable. “I love how we have simply settled that he is a boy.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, hollowly, and there’s nothing once more. You close your eyes, and tears begin to spill down your cheeks – hormones, you think, laughing darkly inside your own head, but you thought you were supposed to be glowing.

“Sweetheart?” Till stands up – you don’t see him, but you hear his chair scrape back, and you shake your head – you feel his hand on your head, and then he walks around the sofa and sits down to stroke your face. “What is the matter?”

“Oh, I,” you begin, and then the steady flow of tears becomes a flood and you begin sobbing. “Oh, god, I don’t think I’m gonna be a good mum…”

“Why?” he asks, and you thank the various gods you worship that he does not sound judgement or insincere. He sounds genuinely interested to hear why, and you stroke your stomach again.

“I don’t not love him. Don’t think that,” you begin – he pats your hand, and you feel grateful he is not simply treating you like the vessel for a new and exciting human like your family has been.

“I know. But you are a person too, still,” he says, and you lean forward clumsily, kissing him before slumping back. “So please. What are  _you_  concerned about?”

“He only kicks for you. He kicks when you speak but not me,” you whisper, and he tilts his head. “And I’m… nobody seems to think I’m a person, and I don’t want… god, I hate saying this, I’m not supposed to-”

“I would rather know,” he says, sternly, and you nod.

“If I am reduced to ‘his mother’, I will resent him.” You feel better for saying it, for a moment, and Till nods as if that is the most natural thing to say in the world. “If I am reduced to simply… a parent, a unit that facilitates his life, I will hate that. Because you won’t.” He looked at you. “You will be Till Lindemann, rock star, and his father. I will just be… the growth unit.”

“I don’t think that,” he says, and you nod. “You are worried you will be forced to give up your life entirely?”

“I just want to still be me, and I am so scared he will mean I am not, and I know you’re supposed to just want that and be okay with that when they’re born, but…” You exhale. “What if I’m not?”

“I understand. I… well.” He kisses your hands. “That will not happen. I think, between us, I may have enough money to ensure you have some free time. I mean… I have done my time of single-parenting, so do not think you may abscond and leave it to me. But you will never just be his mother. You are a whole person, and you will teach him to be a whole person too. I am sorry you are expected to simply care for him, but I do not believe that. My mother certainly does not subscribe to that.” You nod, smiling through your tears for a moment.

“But what if I do resent him? That’d be the worst.”

“The fact you are worrying about it says a lot, and… I will be here for you. So if you do feel that, you can step away, and cool off. What is it you said to me once? That it is not what you think, but what you do?”

“That sunk in?”

“I will never apply it to myself,” he says, gravely, and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry some more. “But you should remember it. If you resent him, I cannot blame you – but I know you. You would not take it out on him.”

“I don’t want to. I do love him. I want to be a mother. I just don’t want that to be everything I am,” you say, quietly, and he kisses you.

“You cannot be, because you are my love. But you are something that is your own as well, not just related to others. Nobody can ever take that away from you,” he says, firmly, and you can almost believe it. “Now, what can I do to make you feel better?”

“You can give me a foot rub, because my ankles feel like balloons,” you say, quietly. “But… you made me feel better already. Thank you.” You stroke your stomach, and smile. “And you, trouble…”  _Kick_. You gasp, and then beam. “You, are going to get off of my bladder.”


End file.
